


A Happier Time

by voidteatime



Series: This Tornado Loves You (the Hieronverse) [1]
Category: The Penumbra Podcast
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen, In which Juno has a nice time because he deserves it, Martian road trip babey!, Multi, Pre-Canon, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-22
Updated: 2020-01-22
Packaged: 2021-02-27 12:40:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22357342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voidteatime/pseuds/voidteatime
Summary: A long time ago, a detective and an artist went on a roadtrip together across the vast Martian desert....
Relationships: Juno Steel/Original Character(s)
Series: This Tornado Loves You (the Hieronverse) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1719880
Comments: 3
Kudos: 18





	A Happier Time

**Author's Note:**

> Just a series of vignettes from when Juno and Hieron were dating each other. Just fluff.
> 
> This exists in the same universe as "Juno Steel and the Portait of Zarathustra"  
> https://archiveofourown.org/works/22357030 and is a sort of a companion piece.
> 
> Feed me kudos?

“Babe, I’m working.” Juno’s voice spelled annoyance, but the gaze cast on the lithe figure leaning against the doorframe of his office was one he reserved for the exact opposite feeling. “Did Rita let you in?”   
  
“Let’s get lost,” Hieron quipped, tossing a travel pamphlet onto Juno’s desk on top of the report the detective had been filling out, which he picked up and read out loud.    
  
“ _ Come see the Singing Monoliths; One of Mars’ Last Ancient Wonders _ ….Isn’t that just a off-worlder tourist trap where they charge you 30 creds to take a photo?”   
  
“Yes, but only if you go through the gift shop first.” Hieron kicked back into the chair in front of Juno’s desk, crossing their legs daintily. “I was thinking of taking a more holistic approach. Parking the van a few miles out and taking in everything together: the monoliths, the cliffs, the obnoxious tourists,” they created a frame with their thumb and forefingers on both hands and peered at Juno through it. “The big picture. Maybe I’ll do a landscape while we’re out there. People love paintings of the desert.”   
  
“Does your van even  _ have _ radiation shielding?” Juno asked, folding the pamphlet to toss it in the bin under his desk.   
  
“It does now!” Hieron singsonged, letting their arms fall to either side of them in the chair. "A very wealthy client bought three of my paintings. You're looking at a ten-thousandaire, darling!“

"Neat, now you can pay me back for bailing you out of jail for vandalizing the Oldtown Commissary."

"It looks a million times better now, admit it." 

Juno looked incredulous as Hieron pouted, leaning forward to slide across his desk and subsequently cover up the file he had been working through. "Juno...you’re basically wrapped on this case. Take the weekend. Support your local artist, like the gentleman who bought us dinner for the next three years."   
  
“Well…” Juno teased, knowing full that refusing Hieron would be next to impossible, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t make them sweat as he pushed them back from his desk by the forehead and slowly picked up his pen again. The fluorescent light above hummed to fill the otherwise painstaking silence. “...Give me another twenty minutes to finish this report and then I’m all yours.”

Hieron popped up from the chair with a bright grin and leaned over Juno’s desk to peck him on the forehead. Juno dismissed it with an idle handwave and the artist sauntered out, closing the door behind them, but not before Juno caught a snippet of H bragging to Rita.    
“See, I told you he’s helpless against my charms.”    
  


* * *

Juno watched the horizon devour Hyperion City in the side mirror of Hieron's van as his lover glanced from the long, bleak stretch of road ahead of them towards him. Hieron recognized this expression of Juno’s; lips set in just the ghost of a smile, his eyes sharp and insightful, though the brow above them was pinched, accentuating the frown lines that had been worn into his forehead within just a few short years. They slipped their free hand into Juno's, letting their fingers glide and lock between his as some thousand-year old crooner sang about the Venusian heat (‘ _ But nothin’s as hot as you, baby _ ’).

"Half-cred for your thoughts, love?" 

When the last glint of morning light from the apex of the city's dome had also sunk into the red Martian desert, Juno turned to look at Hieron. They were dressed in their favorite sweater, threadbare in places that looked fashionable but Juno knew the wear was genuine because Hieron had very few articles of clothing unless they were borrowing from friends (the long, faux fur leopard coat tossed onto the bed at the back of the van definitely belonged to one of their Vixen buddies). They had driving shades on to combat the brilliance of the Martian sun outside of the dome, so Juno couldn't tell whether they were actually watching the empty road or just him. He glanced down at their hand folded into his and pulled it close toward his chest.

"I was just thinking...about how much your driving music sucks."

Hieron snorted indignantly and Juno grinned.    
“You have that look on your face you get when you’re thinking at that captive audience in your head,” Hieron insisted. “You know, you’ve got another captive audience sitting next to you, and they  _ love _ the sound of your voice. Here, I’ll even turn my ‘awful’ music down…”   
  
Juno hummed thoughtfully as he held Hieron’s hand with both of his and began to idly play with their fingers, smoothing his thumbs along their palm in a gentle massage. Hieron’s hands were the painter’s livelihood, afterall, and on occasion when they could both find the time between their busy schedules, he liked to treat them to a little pampering. They had plenty of time now, crammed into the front cabin of H’s van, the hum of the road whipping underneath them a mesmerizing drone above the brassy music now playing softly from the stereo. Juno leaned into the sound for a moment.   
  


“I haven’t been outside the city limits in years,” he began. “Hyperion City, with its thousands of spoken languages, signs in at least a hundred more, and its continuous urban sprawl would lead you to believe that the entire universe was tucked underneath that shimmering plasma dome. But when you leave the skyline behind, the vast expanse of red Martian desert stretching in every direction around you, you realize that the city's really just a speck on the…”   
  
He waxed poetic for a few more bars as he worked Hieron’s palm with lazy circles of his thumbs. They smiled softly and watched another mile marker whisk by. 

* * *

“H?” Juno ventured as the van drifted a little off of the pavement and started to kick up dust that probably hadn’t been disturbed in hundreds of years. “Babe?”    
  


He placed his hand on Hieron’s shoulder, who jolted upright from where they had started to succumb to driving hypnosis from the nearly static landscape, like being adrift in an enormous red sea of dust and rock formations millions of years old. They gripped the steering wheel and pulled them back onto the road. “It’s cool, I got it.”   
  
“Nuh-uh. Pull over and let me drive for a bit,” Juno demanded. “You can catch a nap in the back. I’ll wake you up when we hit our last pit stop.”

  
They made the switch quickly to avoid the nip of the Martian wind, lingering only to pass off a kiss before Juno took the role of driver and H hopped onto the bed from the back doors of the van, pulling the leopard-print coat over them. Juno watched them curl up in the rear view mirror before turning the ignition. He did his best to avoid potholes, which was no easy feat on these old desert roads.

* * *

"The Singing Monoliths huh? I been there a few times, it's very romantic," the lone employee of the last recharging station before Argyre Basin mused, ringing up Juno's coffee as he was sipping it. She looked over his shoulder at Hieron perusing the shelves with a coy smile. "Lots of young couples head down there to propose."

Juno tried not to choke on his coffee while Hieron came up to him and the cashier, dropping two frozen containers of cricket pad thai and a bottle of riesling onto the counter. 

"Dinner," they explain, before also dumping an armful of bags of pink star-shaped rice treats onto the counter as well. “Dessert.”   
  
They were about to hand over their cred card before Juno sleight of handed his into the reader. "Aw- hey!"

"And a full charge on the purple beast outside while you’re at it," Juno added. 

"Hey!" 

* * *

Juno sat in the back of the van, holding drawers closed as Hieron guided them along the steep road that wound down into the Argyre Basin as the sun had begun to set, cursing himself for not installing locks on them like he had promised at least a dozen times before. About halfway into the descent, they turned off the paved path that lead to the floor of the basin and onto a dustier service road skirting the perimeter of the ancient lakebed. After another half hour of rattling Juno and the shelves, they parked the van, the back doors facing towards the valley below. 

Hieron, however, threw open the sliding side door to grant Juno his reprieve with a dazzling grin and misting breath. "We made it!"

And not a second too soon: as the last rays of the sun's light vanished behind the far cliffs and cast them all into treacherous darkness. Driving in that would have resulted in a dive off the edge, Juno was certain. The lady hesitantly moved his arm from the cabinet over the kitchenette, breathing a sigh of relief when nothing tumbled out on top of him. It was remarkable how much of Hieron's life had been crammed and organized into the back of their van; though the majority of it seemed to be painting supplies, tossed into plastic stacking containers and shoved underneath the elevated bed. It was just enough space for one person to live comfortably, which meant with two (as it often was), there was a bit of jostling.  
  
“Scootch, lady! It’s cold!” Hieron pulled the door shut behind them as they pushed Juno back towards the bed. The Martian desert already dropped to below freezing on a sunny day, with the sun gone, the temperature plummeted. But it was cozy in the heated and insulated van as Juno plopped down onto the bed while Hieron wrestled with the plastic bag from the recharging station for their dinner. 

* * *

“A toast!” Hieron chimed, holding up their third glass of wine for the evening. “To a rowdy lady and a lovely gent. To Hyperion City’s best detective,  _ Private Eye Monthly _ be damned. To my inspiration and my safe harbor and myriad other schmaltzy things that he’ll punch me in the arm for- Mister Juno Steel! Happy One Year, my sewer rabbit!”   
  
“Oh I hate that,” Juno grinned.    
  
“No?” Hieron asked, looking up at him from where their head rested in his lap, still raising their glass up towards him to complete the cheers.   
  
“No.” Juno clinked his glass against theirs. “Maybe next anniversary.”

* * *

  
Juno woke up to the first rays of the Martian sunrise peeking through the double windows of the van’s back doors and a stray lock of Hieron’s hair tickling his face. He grunted and sat up slowly, blinking blearily at the interior of the van colored in patches of hazy blue light. He reached carefully over Hieron to open the back doors to get a better view of the landscape they’d driven nearly a whole day to see. They had left the generator running overnight, the radiation shielding forming a comfortable bubble to trap the van’s heat and combat the desert chill with only a minimum of shimmering. The sun crept above the distant cliffs, a blinding white medallion haloed in crisp blue and purple, casting long shadows across the basin. Juno settled back under the comforter he and Hieron shared, sharing in the remarkable tranquility of the dawn, turning back into Hieron to pull them closer to him and feel the rise and fall of their back against his chest with each steady breath.    
  
It could have gone on forever.   
  
But Hieron shifted, wriggling closer into Juno’s body and reaching to wrap his arm tighter about them. “Hnnn, oh no, did I miss it?”   
  
“Not yet,” Juno reassured them, sitting up again to adjust their pillows against the van wall so they can both be propped up to watch the remainder of the sunrise. He tugged Hieron to lay against his body, hooking his chin over their shoulder. They feel down his arm, seeking his hand to hold theirs as sunlight started to spill into the basin, filling it like water once had millions of years ago.    
  
The sun grazed the alien monoliths at the center of the basin, gleaming off of the polished black stone and causing it to warm up and vibrate. The reflected light danced across the cliff walls as the monoliths began to hum, filling the early morning silence with an eerie harmony. Hieron’s mouth falls open a tad, revealing the tips of their wolf-sharp teeth.   
“Oh...wow...they really do sing. I thought that was just a legend they tell tourists.”   
  
“Huh, so they do…” Juno agreed, letting the monoliths carry the momentum of his next few words with their music. “...I love you, Hieron.”   
  
He almost winced as he felt them go still, forming the beginning of an apology with his mouth before Hieron turned their head towards him and caught his lips against theirs in a warm kiss. They rolled off of him to face him properly, messy-haired and smiling softly, and Juno couldn’t tell if they were glowing or if it was a trick of the light.    
  
“Oh, Juno. I love you too.”    
  
They cupped his cheek with their hand and kissed him again, and again, until he too was warm and vibrating like the ancient Martian monoliths miles below them.    
  


* * *

  
  
“Good morning, Mista Steel!” Rita chirped as Juno strode past her desk with his bag slung over his shoulder and an easy smile on his face. “How was your little roadtrip with Mx. Hieron?”   
  
Once behind his desk, Juno removed a framed photo of himself and Hieron grinning, taking an illegal selfie with the Singing Monoliths in the background and a very upset tour guide yelling at them just off-frame.    
“You know what, Rita? It was pretty great.”

  
  



End file.
